Rolling Stone's 45 Best Albums of 2015 So Far

“Don’t remove my pain / It is my chance to heal.” Delivered in a wounded cry of desperation, this lyric—from standout track “Notget”—is emblematic of Björk’s profoundly vulnerable ninth studio album. Given sonic texture by her lush string arrangements and the skittering beats of co-producer Arca, *Vulnicura* was written in response to the dissolution of Björk’s longtime relationship with artist Matthew Barney. Following the cosmically conceptual *Biophilia* (2011), it’s disarming yet reassuring to hear the Icelandic icon’s stratospheric voice wailing bluntly about recognizable human emotions. In the vibrant album closer “Quicksand,” she sings of finding new life through heartache: “The steam from this pit / Will form a cloud / For her to live on.”

After a 12-year break between studio albums, Blur remain as intrepid and inventive as they’ve ever been. *The Magic Whip* finds the Britpop icons reuniting with a collection that\' s both wonderfully familiar and endlessly surprising. “Lonesome Street” kicks off with the ecstatic crunch of guitar and then takes on new colors and textures, with psychedelic synth flourishes and kooky harmonies. While the gleefully distorted “I Broadcast” buzzes and roars, the melancholy sway of “New World Towers” and the serpentine soul of “My Terracotta Heart” leave a haunting afterglow.

Bob Dylan’s decision to record an album of standards, all recorded previously by Frank Sinatra at some point, excited faithful fans who heard the advance tracks “Full Moon and Empty Arms” and “Stay With Me.” All 10 songs were cut live in Capitol Records’ legendary Studio B, with Dylan’s five-piece band and a small orchestra working together without piano to create an aura of late-night mystery. On “I’m a Fool to Want You,” Dylan’s voice conveys the weariness that none other than Billie Holiday tackled late in her career, and he brings hard-won nuance to classic songs as wise as “What’ll I Do.”

Nashville’s one-man hit factory presses pause on the production line for a soulful solo debut. 13 years in the writing, the tracks on *Traveller* possess choruses as effortlessly infectious as anything Stapleton has gifted to high profile clients like Adele and Luke Bryan but there’s a fascinating desperation to the themes here. From the wild, sleepless delirium at the heart of “Parachute” to the bandit bluegrass on “Outlaw State of Mind”, this is country rock that’s unafraid to explore drink, drugs, and a very dark underbelly.

Courtney Barnett\'s 2015 full-length debut established her immediately as a force in independent rock—although she\'d bristle at any sort of hype, as she sneers on the noise-pop gem \"Pedestrian at Best\": \"Put me on a pedestal and I\'ll only disappoint you/Tell me I\'m exceptional, I promise to exploit you.\" Warnings aside, her brittle riffing and deadpan lyrics—not to mention indelible hooks and nagging sense of unease with the world—helped put *Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit* into the upper echelon of 2010s indie rock. The Melbourne-based singer-songwriter stares at stained ceilings and checks out open houses as she reflects on love, death, and the quality of supermarket produce, making *Sometimes* a crowd-pleaser almost in spite of itself. Propulsive tracks like the hip-shaking \"Elevator Operator\" and the squalling \"Dead Fox\" pair Barnett\'s talked-sung delivery with grungy, hooky rave-ups that sound beamed in from a college radio station\'s 1995 top-ten list. Her singing style isn\'t conversational as much as it is like a one-sided phone call from a friend who spends a lot of time in her own head, figuring out the meaning of life in real time while trying to answer the question \"How are you?\"—and sounding captivating every step of the way. But Barnett can also command blissed-out songs that bury pithy social commentary beneath their distorted guitars—\"Small Poppies\" hides notes about power and cruelty within its wobbly chords, while the marvelous \"Depreston\" rolls thoughts on twentysomething thriftiness, half-glimpsed lives, and shifting ideas of \"home\" across its sun-bleached landscape. While the topics of conversation can be heavy, Barnett\'s keen ear for what makes a potent pop song and her inability to be satisfied with herself make *Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit* a fierce opening salvo.

*Black Messiah* ends one of R&B\'s most mysterious disappearing acts, arriving almost 15 years after D\'Angelo\'s sophomore full-length, *Voodoo*. Filled with fluid musicianship, political dissent, and bewitching production, *Black Messiah* is a mosaic of funky, rule-breaking neo-soul that\'s alternatively rebellious, sensual, and deeply spiritual. The serpentine melodies of D\'Angelo\'s ‘90s work are here, but they’re pushed to an experimental edge by his aptly named band, The Vanguard ((which includes Roots drummer Questlove and jazz luminary Roy Hargrove). Soulful keyboards and richly layered vocal harmonies are at the core of the psych-funk of “Ain’t That Easy” and the piano-driven saunter of “Sugah Daddy,” which stand in contrast to guitar-spiked protest songs like “1000 Deaths” and “The Charade.”

Death Grips veer between weird and terrifying on this sprawling joint. Skittery and electronic, the first eight cuts feature Björk’s sampled voice splattered across Zach Hill’s digi-drum pummel. They then return to more familiar terrain, unleashing psychedelic noise rap and poetic paranoia with all the apocalyptic aggression of world destroyers.

Drake surprised everyone at the beginning of 2015 when he dropped *If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late*, an impressive 17-track release that combines the contemplative and confrontational with plenty of cavernous production from longtime collaborator Noah “40” Shebib. While Drizzy joins mentor Lil Wayne in questioning the loyalty of old friends on the woozy, Wondagurl-produced “Used To,” “Energy” is the cold-blooded highlight—on which he snarls, “I got enemies.” Later, amid the electrifying barbs of “6PM in New York,” Drake considers his own mortality and legacy: “28 at midnight. I wonder what’s next for me.”

Rapper Earl Sweatshirt’s third album is a dark, fascinating trip to the bottom of the self. Lyrically, Earl is a singular talent, capable of dense, expressive lines that flip back and forth between humor and pain, despair and resolve. “My days numbered, I’m focused heavy on making the most of ’em/I feel like I’m the only one pressin’ to grow upwards,” he raps on “Faucet,” over beats as hazy and fragmented as the words themselves.

Following his scintillating debut under the Father John Misty moniker—2012’s *Fear Fun*—journeyman singer/songwriter Josh Tillman delivers his most inspired and candid album yet. Filled with gorgeous melodies and grandiose production, *I Love You, Honeybear* finds Tillman applying his immense lyrical gifts to questions of love and intimacy. “Chateau Lobby 4 (In C for Two Virgins)” is a radiant folk tune, burnished by gilded string arrangements and mariachi horn flourishes. Elsewhere, Tillman pushes his remarkable singing voice to new heights on the album’s powerful centerpiece, “When You’re Smiling and Astride Me,” a soulful serenade of epic proportions. “I’d never try to change you,” he sings, clearly moved. “As if I could, and if I were to, what’s the part that I’d miss most?”

*A word about the refurbished deluxe edition 2xLP* With the new repressing of the deluxe, tri-colored vinyl that is now available again for purchase, we ask just one favor that will also serve as your only and final warning: The deluxe, pop-up-art-displaying jacket WILL warp the new vinyl if said vinyl is inserted back into the jacket sleeves and inserted into your record shelf. To prevent this, we ask that you keep the new LPs outside the deluxe jacket, in the separate white jackets that they ship in. Think of these 2 parts of the same deluxe package as “neighbors, not roommates” on your shelf, and your records will remain unwarped for many years to come (assuming you don’t leave them out in extreme temperatures or expose them to other forces of nature that would normally cause a record to warp…)! *The LP is cut at 45 rpm. Please adjust your turntable speed accordingly!* “I Love You, Honeybear is a concept album about a guy named Josh Tillman who spends quite a bit of time banging his head against walls, cultivating weak ties with strangers and generally avoiding intimacy at all costs. This all serves to fuel a version of himself that his self-loathing narcissism can deal with. We see him engaging in all manner of regrettable behavior. “In a parking lot somewhere he meets Emma, who inspires in him a vision of a life wherein being truly seen is not synonymous with shame, but possibly true liberation and sublime, unfettered creativity. These ambitions are initially thwarted as jealousy, self-destruction and other charming human character traits emerge. Josh Tillman confesses as much all throughout. “The album progresses, sometimes chronologically, sometimes not, between two polarities: the first of which is the belief that the best love can be is finding someone who is miserable in the same way you are and the end point being that love isn’t for anyone who isn’t interested in finding a companion to undertake total transformation with. I won’t give away the ending, but sex, violence, profanity and excavations of the male psyche abound. “My ambition, aside from making an indulgent, soulful, and epic sound worthy of the subject matter, was to address the sensuality of fear, the terrifying force of love, the unutterable pleasures of true intimacy, and the destruction of emotional and intellectual prisons in my own voice. Blammo. “This material demanded a new way of being made, and it took a lot of time before the process revealed itself. The massive, deranged shmaltz I heard in my head, and knew had to be the sound of this record, originated a few years ago while Emma and I were hallucinating in Joshua Tree; the same week I wrote the title track. I chased that sound for the entire year and half we were recording. The means by which it was achieved bore a striking resemblance to the travails, abandon and transformation of learning how to love and be loved; see and be seen. There: I said it. Blammo.” -Josh Tillman (A.K.A. Father John Misty) All LP versions are 45 rpm. All purchases come with digital downloads.

This full-length debut is a colorful blast of attitude-packed R&B pop, spiced up with flirty rhymes (“Them Girls Be Like”), Mariah Carey samples (the ultra-catchy \"Like Mariah”), and guests including Kid Ink, Tyga, and Meghan Trainor. It’s the tunes when the distinct singers lean into lush vocal harmonies—“Reflection,” \"This Is How We Roll,” “We Know\"—where the album really shines.

On Florence + The Machine’s third album, their focus is clear from the cover art. While the group\'s first two albums featured frontwoman Florence Welch posed in a theatrical side profile with her eyes closed, this one finds her eyes open and staring straight into the camera. This sense of immediacy and alertness infuses the band’s most mature, cohesive album yet, starting with propulsive opener, “Ship to Wreck.” Lush arrangements combine a rock band, strings, and brass with Welch’s volcanic, soaring voice, serving high drama on tracks like the driving “What Kind of Man” and the transcendent “Mother.”

Hop Along has had multiple lives. First conceptualized as a freak-folk solo act by Frances Quinlan, it progressed towards a fuller sound with the addition of Mark Quinlan on drums, Tyler Long on bass and Joe Reinhart (Algernon Cadwallader, Dogs on Acid) on guitar. Emerging as one of music’s most unique songwriters, the captivating vignettes Frances has weaved tell vivid stories of desperation and weary awakening. Their powerful voice is a spellbinding entity all it’s own, celebratory and raw, and one that can’t be shaken away. Like their debut (2012’s Get Disowned), Painted Shut is a series of accounts, a procession of fleeting and repeating characters. However, it diverges from its predecessor in its close-up, controlled approach (most of the album features the band recording live), and more focused portraiture. Whereas Get Disowned calls forth a dreamy collage of protagonists in a tone that’s often anthemic and surreal, Painted Shut is a grounded, less merciful image of many struggling adults (and children) in a severe landscape. Often depicted in Painted Shut are the two lives of legendary (though generally unknown) musicians, Buddy Bolden and Jackson C. Frank, who were plagued with mental illness until their penniless deaths. Included are accounts of more everyday poverty, abuse, greed; and banal, sub-par behavior. Society is unveiled as a structure that, in reality, was most certainly not built with everyone in mind. Clearly this is difficult subject matter. Yet the songs themselves move unencumbered and easily, forming angular pop anti-anthems, at times jubilant as well as irreverent. Somehow, they are not sad songs. There is joy, in the abandon of Frances’ unforgettable voice, in the exulting choruses. One wakes to a sky that is a bright, ageless blue. It’s morning and so clear outside that multitudes of lives can be seen, in focus despite the distance. All of this is viewed through a window sealed with cracked paint that cannot be opened on either side. That is how we must often view the lives of others, especially when it comes to people who have lived and gone from this world. That’s another story. Painted Shut was co-produced, recorded and mixed by John Agnello (Kurt Vile, Dinosaur Jr., Sonic Youth, etc.) in the great cities of Philadelphia and Brooklyn, and incidentally finished in the shortest span of time the band has ever made anything.

Dance-floor kings Skrillex and Diplo show some sophisticated range on their debut album as Jack Ü. “Beats Knockin” turns a New Orleans-style “Triggerman” beat into a synth-heavy workout with MC Fly Boi Keno. Then they immediately flip it on “Take Ü There,” messing with skittering snares and pop melodies atop a juicy, soulful vocal from rave queen Kiesza. There\'s dark dancehall with Bunji Garlin, low-slung R&B on “Mind,” the tropical-flavored “Where Are Ü Now” with Justin Bieber—*Jack Ü* is a caffeinated, sensual, super-fun amalgam of everything club music should be.

A wondrous debut from the house producer of indie-pop romantics The xx, *In Colour* is the sound of dance music heard at helicopter height: beautiful, distant, and surprising at every turn. Whether summoning old-school drum ’n’ bass (“Gosh”) or dancehall-inflected pop (the Young Thug and Popcaan double feature “I Know There’s Gonna Be (Good Times)”), the mood here is consummately relaxed, more like a spring morning than a busy night. Laced throughout the thump and sparkle are fragments of recorded conversation and the ambience of city streets—details that make the music feel as though it has a life of its own.

After a five-year retreat from the spotlight, Jazmine Sullivan returns with poised authority on *Reality Show*, her third full-length collection of perceptive, emotionally raw R&B. We’ve always known the Philly musician is a talented singer—her agile vocal fireworks light up tunes like \"Mascara” and “Masterpiece (Mona Lisa)”—but *Reality Show* is a huge artistic leap forward due to Sullivan’s gutsy songwriting. When she lays into tunes about everywoman trials (the disco-tinged “Stanley,” the soulful “Silver Lining,” and the sinister “#Hoodlove”), *Reality Show* is equally gritty and gratifying.

A hot young talent with an old-school soul, New York rapper Joey Bada\$$ offers a gritty, witty, and deeply lyrical alternative to current mainstream hip-hop on his long-awaited debut album *B4.DA.\$$*. Over vintage boom-bap drums and soulful samples, provided by heavyweight producers like DJ Premier and Statik Selektah, the prodigiously skilled Bada\$$ updates the rough-but-smooth vibe of golden age rap for the millennial generation, rocking a flow that’s equally inspired by the introspective rhymes of Mos Def and the intricate street tales of Nas. *B4.DA.\$$* will thrill both hip-hop veterans and rap fans too young to remember the innovative \'90s greats that Bada\$$ reveres.

The most ambitious jazz album to arrive in ages, Los Angeles saxophonist/composer Kamasi Washington\'s debut clocks in at 174 minutes—with never a dull moment. While his flawless 10-piece band already packs a wallop, thanks to their doubled basses and drums, Washington embellishes them with a string section and angelic choir. Like his luminous playing on Kendrick Lamar’s *To Pimp a Butterfly*, Washington solos with power and grace here. Versions of \"Cherokee\" and Terence Blanchard\'s \"Malcolm\'s Theme\" nod to jazz tradition, but it\'s originals like \"Change of the Guard\" that signal his truly epic aspirations.

The story begins with a man on high. He is an old man, a warrior, and the guardian to the gates of a city. Two miles below his mountainous perch, he observes a dojo, where a group of young men train night and day. Eventually, the old man expects a challenger to emerge. He hopes for the day of his destruction, for this is the cycle of life. Finally the doors fly open and three young men burst forth to challenge the old master. The first man is quick, but not strong enough. The second is quick, and strong, but not wise enough. The third stands tall, and overtakes the master. The Changing of the Guard has at long last been achieved. But then the old man wakes up. He looks down at the dojo and realizes he’s been daydreaming. The dojo below exists, but everyone in training is yet a child. By the time they grow old enough to challenge the old man, he has disappeared. This is, in essence, both a true story and a carefully constructed musical daydream, one that will further unfold in May of 2015, in a brazen release from young Los Angeles jazz giant, composer, and bandleader Kamasi Washington. The Epic is unlike anything jazz has seen, and not just because it emanates from the... more credits released October 2, 2015 Recorded at King Size Sound Labs. Engineered by Tony Austin, Chris Constable and Brian Rosemeyer. Mixed by Benjamin Tierney. Mastered by Stephen Marcussen at Marcussen Mastering.

Thanks to multiple hit singles—and no shortage of critical acclaim—2012’s *good kid, m.A.A.d city* propelled Kendrick Lamar into the hip-hop mainstream. His 2015 follow-up, *To Pimp a Butterfly*, served as a raised-fist rebuke to anyone who thought they had this Compton-born rapper figured out. Intertwining Afrocentric and Afrofuturist motifs with poetically personal themes and jazz-funk aesthetics, *To Pimp A Butterfly* expands beyond the gangsta rap preconceptions foisted upon Lamar’s earlier works. Even from the album’s first few seconds—which feature the sound of crackling vinyl and a faded Boris Gardiner soul sample—it’s clear *To Pimp a Butterfly* operates on an altogether different cosmic plane than its decidedly more commercial predecessor. The album’s Flying Lotus-produced opening track, “Wesley’s Theory,” includes a spoken-word invocation from musician Josef Leimberg and an appearance by Parliament-Funkadelic legend George Clinton—names that give *To Pimp a Butterfly* added atomic weight. Yet Lamar’s lustful and fantastical verses, which are as audacious as the squirmy Thundercat basslines underneath, never get lost in an album packed with huge names. Throughout *To Pimp a Butterfly*, Lamar goes beyond hip-hop success tropes: On “King Kunta,” he explores his newfound fame, alternating between anxiety and big-stepping braggadocio. On “The Blacker the Berry,” meanwhile, Lamar pointedly explores and expounds upon identity and racial dynamics, all the while reaching for a reckoning. And while “Alright” would become one of the rapper’s best-known tracks, it’s couched in harsh realities, and features an anthemic refrain delivered in a knowing, weary rasp that belies Lamar’s young age. He’s only 27, and yet he’s already seen too much. The cast assembled for this massive effort demonstrates not only Lamar’s reach, but also his vast vision. Producers Terrace Martin and Sounwave, both veterans of *good kid, m.A.A.d city*, are among the many names to work behind-the-boards here. But the album also includes turns from everyone from Snoop Dogg to SZA to Ambrose Akinmusire to Kamasi Washington—an intergenerational reunion of a musical diaspora. Their contributions—as well as the contributions of more than a dozen other players—give *To Pimp a Butterfly* a remarkable range: The contemplations of “Institutionalized” benefit greatly from guest vocalists Bilal and Anna Wise, as do the hood parables of “How Much A Dollar Cost,” which features James Fauntleroy and Ronald Isley. Meanwhile, Robert Glasper’s frenetic piano on “For Free? (Interlude)” and Pete Rock’s nimble scratches on “Complexion (A Zulu Love)” give *To Pimp a Butterfly* added energy.

Just as “All Summer Long” looked back and rocked, *First Kiss* remembers. Kid Rock’s classic rock takes a turn toward hard country on a tune like “Drinking Beer with Dad,” where Kid admits that getting older comes to everyone. “Johnny Cash” rocks a bit more than you might expect for a tribute of sorts to The Man in Black. The album’s second half turns milder, with acoustic guitars and slower tempos. Important to note: the album\'s “explicit” version includes the obscene “FOAD,” while the “clean” version finishes up with the more traditional “Say Goodbye.” It’s the same song with a crucial lyric change.

Leon Bridges’ retro-soul debut is so impressively dead-on you might wonder where he parked his time machine. Channeling the buttoned-up charm of Sam Cooke and the mellower side of Otis Redding (as well as contemporary throwbacks like Raphael Saadiq), *Coming Home* captures a moment in the early \'60s where gospel met blues and blossomed into doo-wop and soul. It was the period-perfect title track that helped Bridges gain an audience beyond his Texas hometown, but the swaying dedication to his mother, “Lisa Sawyer,” is every bit as lovely.

When hackers forced Madonna to release tracks from *Rebel Heart* early, it only drove expectations higher for the album, which comes in a standard 14-track version and a sprawling 19-track deluxe edition. The opening trilogy—“Living for Love,” “Devil Pray,” and “Ghosttown”—offer comfort food, melodies fans can take to heart, helped along by Diplo and Avicii. “Unapologetic B\*\*\*\*h” slides into reggae. “Illuminati” collaborates with Kanye West. “B\*\*\*h I’m Madonna” teams with Nicki Minaj. Chance the Rapper and Mike Tyson find their way into “Iconic,” while Madonna sings purely on “Joan of Arc.”

Mark Ronson reaches new collaborative heights on the wonderfully funky *Uptown Special*. In addition to writing lyrics alongside Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Michael Chabon, the multi-instrumentalist DJ/producer enlists musical genius of all stripes, from Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker to Mystikal to Jeff Bhasker. While Stevie Wonder lends his touch to the astral melodies of the album’s opening and closing cuts, Bruno Mars pays brilliant homage to Prince on the propulsive “Uptown Funk.” Get ready to move.

This thrilling Congolese band mixes old, new, and spacey.

While it’s hard to imagine a band as punishing as METZ refining their sound without losing their drive, they manage to do just that on *II*. It’s not that the music is any friendlier or that the songs are any more “evolved,” but that the band is that much more powerful and precise in their attack, making the turn-on-a-dime dynamics of “The Swimmer” and “Nervous System” seem graceful, even beautiful—that is, as beautiful as a minefield of feedback and yelling can be.

Ditching the dubstep and EDM influences of 2012’s *The 2nd Law* in favor of old-fashioned rock ballistics, Muse’s seventh album is a wide-angle, bold-faced attack on the dehumanizing effects of modern war. Produced by Mutt Lange (famous in part for the tank-like sound of AC/DC and Def Leppard in their prime), *Drones* mashes together the high drama of late-\'90s Radiohead (“Psycho”) with the pyrotechnics of Van Halen (“Reapers”) and the grand sweep of both U2 and Pink Floyd—bands who have always chosen to go big or go home.

This is a treasure. Recorded a year before the death of Roebuck “Pops” Staples, it\'s our chance to hear a musical icon’s final work. Shortly before passing in 2000, Pops—the patriarch of The Staple Singers—told his daughter Mavis: “Don’t lose this.” She didn’t. Mavis, who recorded some of her own vocals for this release, enlisted Jeff Tweedy to overdub bass and help with production. Tweedy’s son Spencer plays drums. The result is vintage Pops—the trademark tremolo guitar tone, spine-tingling vocals, and uplifting, socially conscious lyrics. Featuring several originals, two standards, and a live Bob Dylan tune, the entire album is strong; the backstory only adds to its poignancy.

This debut from brothers Swae Lee and Slim Jimmy, a.k.a. Rae Sremmurd, proves that Southern hip-hop is as bumping and irreverent as ever. This is the soundtrack to delinquency; its roiling low end and chopped-up beats foreground the antics of the devil-may-care protagonists. Whether it\'s praising the local gentlemen\'s club on the Minaj feature \"Throw Sum Mo\" or comparing themselves to Donald Trump, these boys just wanna have fun.

Rhiannon Giddens—singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and founding member of Carolina Chocolate Drops—makes her solo recording debut with Tomorrow Is My Turn. The album, produced by T Bone Burnett, features a broad range of songs from genres as diverse as gospel, jazz, blues, and country, including works made famous by Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, Odetta, and Nina Simone. The album "is a showcase for Ms. Giddens’s glorious voice," says the New York Times. "For all her technical control, her voice is a perpetually soulful marvel." NPR calls it "a truly astounding vocal performance." "Gorgeous," exclaims the Daily Telegraph. "An exceptional record." Tomorrow Is My Turn was nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Folk Album.

The peerless indie trio’s first LP in a decade is 33 minutes of pure, lean, honest-to-goodness rock. Corin Tucker is in full command of her howitzer of a voice on standouts like “Surface Envy.” Carrie Brownstein’s haughty punk sneer leads the glorious “A New Wave.” Janet Weiss’ masterful drumming navigates the songwriting’s hairpin tonal shifts, from the glittering “Hey Darling” to the turbulent album closer, “Fade.\" *No Cities to Love* is an electrifying step forward for one of the great American rock bands.

“We sound possessed on these songs,” says guitarist/vocalist Carrie Brownstein about Sleater-Kinney’s eighth studio album, No Cities to Love. “Willing it all–the entire weight of the band and what it means to us–back into existence.” The new record is the first in 10 years from the acclaimed trio–Brownstein, vocalist/guitarist Corin Tucker, and drummer Janet Weiss–who came crashing out of the ’90s Pacific Northwest riot grrrl scene, setting a new bar for punk’s political insight and emotional impact. Formed in Olympia, WA in 1994, Sleater-Kinney were hailed as “America’s best rock band” by Greil Marcus in Time Magazine, and put out seven searing albums in 10 years before going on indefinite hiatus in 2006. But the new album isn’t about reminiscing, it’s about reinvention–the ignition of an unparalleled chemistry to create new sounds and tell new stories. “I always considered Corin and Carrie to be musical soulmates in the tradition of the greats,” says Weiss, whose drums fuel the fire of Tucker and Brownstein’s vocal and guitar interplay. “Something about taking a break brought them closer, desperate to reach together again for their true expression.” The result is a record that grapples with love, power and redemption without restraint. “The three of us want the same thing,” says Weiss. “We want the songs to be daunting.” Produced by long-time Sleater-Kinney collaborator John Goodmanson, who helmed many of the band’s earlier albums including 1997 breakout set Dig Me Out, No Cities to Love is indeed formidable from the first beat. Lead track “Price Tag” is a pounding anthem about greed and the human cost of capitalism, establishing both the album’s melodic drive and its themes of power and powerlessness–giving voice, as Tucker says, to those who “struggle to be heard against the dominant culture or status quo.” “Bury Our Friends” has Tucker and Brownstein joining vocal forces, locking arms to defeat a pressing fear of insignificance. It’s also emblematic of the band’s give and take, and commitment to working and reworking each song until it’s as strong as it can be. “‘Bury Our Friends’ was written in the 11th hour,” says Tucker. “Carrie had her great chime-y guitar riff, but we had gone around in circles with how to make that part into a cohesive song. I think Carrie finally cracked the chorus idea and yelled, ‘Sing with me!’” “A New Wave” similarly went through many iterations during the writing process, with five or six potential choruses, before crystallizing. It enters with an insistent guitar riff, and a battle between acceptance and defiance–“Every day I throw a little party,” howls Brownstein, “but a fit would be more fitting.” The album’s meditative title track was inspired by the trend of atomic tourism and its function as a metaphor for someone enthralled and impressed by power. “That form of power, that presence, is not only destructive it’s also hollowed-out, past its prime,” says Brownstein. “The character in that song has made a ritual out of seeking structures and people in which to find strength, yet they keep coming up empty.” Sleater-Kinney’s decade apart made room for family and other fruitful collaborations, as well as an understanding of what the band’s singular chemistry demands. “Creativity is about where you want your blood to flow, because in order to do something meaningful and powerful there has to be life inside of it,” says Brownstein. “Sleater-Kinney isn’t something you can do half-assed or half-heartedly. We have to really want it. This band requires a certain desperation, a direness. We have to be willing to push because the entity that is this band will push right back.” “The core of this record is our relationship to each other, to the music, and how all of us still felt strongly enough about those to sweat it out in the basement and to try and reinvent our band,” adds Tucker. With No Cities to Love, “we went for the jugular.” –Evie Nagy

Produced & mixed by Nicolas Vernhes & Speedy Ortiz Engineered by Gabe Wax at Rare Book Room, Brooklyn, NY Mastered by Emily Lazar & assisted by Chris Allgood at The Lodge, New York, NY Art by Sadie Dupuis Art photography & craft support by Caitlin Bechtel All songs by Sadie Dupuis/ July Was Hot (BMI) ©2015 Carpark Records CAK 103 Buy this IRL: store.carparkrecords.com/products/543382-cak103-speedy-ortiz-foil-deer

Steven Wilson excels at ambitious projects that bring the finest musicians and cutting-edge technology together. In another era, this album might be *2112* or *The Wall*. Presently, it’s a masterwork partly inspired by the story of a 38-year-old woman whose body was discovered in her London flat several years after she’d died, despite having friends and family. Wilson imagines a living woman, her thoughts and her rituals for coping with everyday living. Dramatic, extended instrumental work (“First Regret,” “Routine,” “Home Invasion,” “Ancestral”) exists within conventional songs, creating a monumentally virtuosic and poetic emotional work worthy of its grandeur.

Steven Wilson, four-time Grammy nominee, multi-instrumentalist, producer, and founder member of Porcupine Tree, released his critically acclaimed fourth solo album Hand. Cannot. Erase. in 2015. In 2017 he shot back into the charts with his fifth solo album To the Bone at #3 in the UK and #2 in Germany, which built on the success of Hand. Cannot. Erase., which reached #13 in the UK and #3 in Germany. As well as a good reception from fans, Hand. Cannot. Erase. was well supported in the press, with the Financial Times (UK) calling the album "richly textured and forceful... and tender treatments of the theme of loss", Classic Rock (UK) claiming it to be "A tour de force of experimental music making... 8/10" and Metal Hammer (DE) described it as "another masterstroke... 6/7", as well as receiving five stars from Record Collector and four from Q Magazine. Hand. Cannot Erase. was recorded at London’s illustrious Air Studios, Steven reunited Guthrie Govan (guitar), Adam Holzman (keyboards), Theo Travis (flute / sax), Nick Beggs (bass / stick), and Marco Minneman (drums), the spectacular band responsible for 'The Raven...' album and world tour. “Hand. Cannot. Erase. Is an album rooted in sonic and spiritual modernity… an inventive blend of bleak and brooding industrial soundscapes” ***** The Guardian

Sufjan Stevens has taken creative detours into textured electro-pop, orchestral suites, and holiday music, but *Carrie & Lowell* returns to the feathery indie folk of his quietly brilliant early-’00s albums, like *Michigan* and *Seven Swans*. Using delicate fingerpicking and breathy vocals, songs like “Eugene,” “The Only Thing,” and the Simon & Garfunkel-influenced “No Shade in the Shadow of The Cross” are gorgeous reflections on childhood. When Stevens whispers in multi-tracked harmony over the album’s title track—an impressionistic portrait of his mother and stepfather that glows with nostalgic details—he delivers a haunting centerpiece.

This could be the hardest-rocking album of 2015. The Tacoma, Wash.–based garage rockers’ original albums—1965’s *Here Are the Sonics* and 1966’s *Boom*—outdid their competition. Fifty years after that debut album, original Sonics members Gerry Roslie (keyboards, vocals), Larry Parypa (guitar, vocals), and Rob Lind (sax, harmonica, vocals) are backed by bassist Freddie Dennis (The Kingsmen) and drummer Dusty Watson (Dick Dale, Agent Orange) and produced by Jim Diamond (White Stripes, Dirtbombs) in what they call “earth-shaking mono”—and it’s 10 times more gloriously raw and energized than most groups one-third of their age.